


See Me For What I Am

by mrhd



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhd/pseuds/mrhd
Summary: After the mindwipe, Tony and Steve are still together. Tony is guilty. (Set during the early part of the Hickmanvengers run.)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2019





	See Me For What I Am

**Author's Note:**

> I mentioned the mindwipe in the summary, if that's gonna bother you back out now.
> 
> This fic was almost called "You Stupid Bitch".

“We can’t thank you enough for your help,” the EMT says, shaking Steve’s hand.

Steve gives him his signature Captain America Smile, shakes her hand, and says, “All in a day’s work, as I’m sure you know.”

It’s just him and Tony of the team out right now. A group of AIM goons trying take over the entrance to a subway station in the financial district wasn’t enough to warrant sending the whole team, and the two of them had it well handled. Everything except for one small explosion, which Tony had mostly absorbed with the armor. Steve had frowned at him for it, and Tony is sure there’s a lecture about needlessly self-sacrificial tactics in his future, but the only casualty had been one decorative tree.

All in all, it had been easy, and New Yorkers are now streaming in and out of the subway station as if nothing had ever happened, grumbling about the broken pieces of concrete.

The EMT lets go of Steve’s hand and busies herself with helping some of the more shaken civilians.

“Probably tourists,” Tony says quietly into the mic, only for Steve’s ears in his communicator.

Steve snorts and his lips twitch briefly. “Be nice, Tony,” he says, equally quietly as he comes to stand by Tony’s side.

The way he’s holding himself, Tony can tell that Steve is practically bubbling with extra adrenaline. Captain America is more than a match for a few unorganized AIM goons, and Tony wouldn’t be surprised if Steve hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Ride back, Winghead?” Tony asks, raising an arm.

Steve lets the grin he was holding back grow into something softer and more personal.

Tony’s heart _thumps_. Before the last Illuminati meeting such free, sweet smiles from Steve had been becoming increasingly rare as he became more annoyed and tense. After the mindwipe though, things had eased between them once more, partially because Tony is having a particularly hard time saying no to Steve.

Steve steps smoothly under Tony’s outstretched arm and onto his boot. “Thanks, Shellhead,” he says, pressing himself closer than is strictly necessary for flight, practically snuggling up to the armor.

 _He trusts you_ , the voice in Tony’s head says. _He trusts you and messed with his mind_.

Tony shoves the thought away and instead focuses on taking off smoothly. Letting Steve down metaphorically is one thing. Dropping him from the height his armor is capable off is another.

As they gain both height and speed, Steve tucks his head into the curve of the armor’s shoulder. He’d told Tony once that it was because the wind hurt his face, Tony knows from the way that he’d said it, and the way that Steve mimics the position when they’re in bed, that it’s actually him trying to be sneaky about being affectionate.

Tony smiles, and in a fit of mischief, makes sure his grip is firm before doing several barrel rolls in a row.

Steve yelps at the first one but by the time Tony’s brought them upright again, he can hear him laughing through the comm link.

“Tony!” Steve says, in what is only vaguely an attempt at rebuke.

“Too much for you?”

Tony can’t really _feel_ Steve through the armor, but the sensors register him shaking his head against the shoulder.

“I could slow down.”

“Don’t,” Steve says.

Tony puts on a burst of speed and Steve whoops, just loud enough for Tony to hear through the helmet even without the sensors and communicators. Inside the helmet, Tony smiles, and he’d bet Steve is too.

Steve stays wrapped around him all the way to the tower and even hangs out after Tony lands.

“You’re gonna have to get down so I can take the armor off,” Tony points out.

Steve steps back and Tony can see his smile. “See you in your room in ten?” he asks, pulling the cowl back.

It’s a blatant invitation. Tony’s not surprised; most fights end with sex between them nowadays. Sometimes it’s stress relief after a tough fight, sometimes it’s a way to burn off extra energy, and sometimes, when the fight’s been rough, it’s a relief, a connection, a reminder, that things are okay. At the beginning of their relationship it hadn’t happened every time, both of them too cautious about pushing the other. Eventually they’d gotten over that, and it had become a regular post-mission occurrence, as long as the two of them weren’t fighting. And even sometimes then, angry sex is its own kind of satisfying.

Lately the friction between them over the stones had been creeping into their sex life as well, but after the mindwipe, Steve has been more eager, and the sex has been easier, less tinged with frustration and anger.

“Shouldn’t there be a debrief, Captain?” Tony asks, glad that the Iron Man masks the thoughts on his face and in his voice.

“Oh, someone will be debriefed,” Steve says with a wink.

Tony takes off the helmet just so Steve can see him rolling his eyes. “That was terrible, Steve.”

Steve grins and says, “Ten minutes,” again before heading off to his room.

Well, to what is technically Steve’s room. It’s mainly a room for Steve’s extra stuff: he sleeps in Tony’s bed, showers in Tony’s shower, has his own drawer in Tony’s dresser, and his own rack in Tony’s closet. It had started out slowly, all those years ago, just Steve spending the night, sometimes a few in a row. Sometimes Tony had even gone to Steve’s room, although it had always ended up in complaints about Steve’s small (queen sized, but _honestly_ ) bed and scratchy sheets.

Eventually Steve had started stashing a spare set of pajamas alongside Tony’s, and then some shirts, and pants, and eventually even his backup costume, at which point Tony had pointed out that he might as well just move in. Steve had smirked and just said, “Took you long enough to ask.” Nowadays Steve’s room is mostly just for appearances’ sake, and for those times when their tempers get the best of them. When he’d agreed to the mindwipe, Tony had been glad for the room’s continued existence.

He should stop this, he knows. He’s lying to Steve, and every second he delays the inevitable will just make the fallout worse. Tony can see it so clearly, the betrayal, the hurt on Steve’s face. Everything they’ve built, blown up in one go. Which is why he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s selfish, and Steve looks so, so happy whenever he smiles at Tony. Tony knows that Steve would leave him if he knew, couldn’t love Tony anymore. But he also knows that if he were to break it off without any explanation, Steve wouldn’t understand. He’d be stubborn, and he’d push, and the truth would come tumbling out, because Tony is weak. At the end of the day, lying by omission like this is so easier than any sort of confrontation, and Tony’s never been brave when it comes to stuff like this. So it sits, heavy in his conscience and sour on his tongue, but Tony is used to that.

He turns the water of his shower on, the stream both powerful and just shy of scalding, burning away his thoughts along with the sweat of battle and the ever clinging tang of the armor’s metal. It hadn’t been a rough fight, but he had absorbed the impact of a shoddy bomb, so Tony double checks himself for any bruises or cuts he hadn’t felt. He might not notice them, but Steve definitely would, and he’d insist they take care of them first. Steve is always so concerned, and the caring is more than Tony feels he can take.

But there’s nothing that should catch Steve’s attention, so Tony shuts the water off and steps out into the chill of the bathroom. The fans kick on instantly, clearing away the steam and balancing the air temperature, and Tony sometimes wishes they wouldn’t, that he could carry the burn of the water with him. Maybe it could cleanse him.

 _But hell isn’t supposed to be cleansing_ , Tony thinks as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. _And I don’t deserve salvation_.

In reality, Tony doesn’t move, and so neither does his reflection. But it warps before him anyways, Tony’s features becoming something else, something darker, the blue of his eyes darkening, his brow furrowing, the lines of his face becoming sharper.

He swallows down the urge to punch the mirror. It never does him any good. And besides, Steve would ask questions.

Tony takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, his face is back to normal. The Iron Man faceplace isn’t the only mask he’s used to hiding behind.

There’s a knock at the door.

Tony turns away from himself and smiles. It’s always easy to fake when it comes to Steve, who is just on time.

“Hey,” he says, opening the door and leaning, nude, against the door jamb.

Steve looks him up and down and whatever polite greeting he had planned visibly dies in his throat.

“Like what you see?” Tony asks, smirking.

Steve doesn’t answer, just takes Tony’s face in his hands as he kisses him, deep with lots of tongue, as he backs Tony up enough to slam the door shut with his foot.

“Why did you bother getting dressed?” Tony asks, running his hands up Steve’s t-shirt.

“Don’t complain,” Steve says, pushing Tony back onto the bed so he can straddle his lap. “I know you like this shirt.”

Tony does. It’s a good t-shirt, and Tony definitely appreciates how tight it is across the muscles of Steve’s chest and biceps, but it’s also wholly unnecessary for walking down the hallway to have sex.

“And you like undressing me,” Steve adds as Tony’s hands drift down to the waistband of his sweats, dipping inside them to squeeze Steve’s ass. At least he’s gone commando.

Steve presses his ass back into Tony’s hands, arching his back. Tony wants to take his shirt off, but he also doesn’t want to let go of Steve’s ass.

“Kiss me,” he says instead, staying right where he is.

Steve smiles at him and does, keeping his ass pressed upwards as he bends down to kiss Tony.

It’s hot and wet and open-mouthed, which Tony knows means Steve is feeling particularly horny.

“Those AIM guys really got to you, huh?” he says when they part.

“ _You_ get to me,” Steve says, gently shoving at Tony’s shoulder.

Tony moves with the motion even though it wasn’t enough to move him on his own and sprawls back on his bed. He grins up at Steve, gratified to see that his sweats aren’t doing anything to hide his erection. Steve always gets hard so fast, and Tony doesn’t know if it’s a side-effect of the serum or not, but he likes to take credit for it.

Tony grins up at him, pushing Steve’s loose sweats down. “Well, come get me, soldier,” he says.

Steve rolls his eyes but leans down to kiss Tony again.

Kissing Steve has always been the easiest part of the thing between them. They clash and argue, and Tony lies, and that bleeds into the sex itself, makes touches hard, makes it a fight for dominance, to prove themselves right. But it’s never like that in their kisses; always in sync, Steve and Tony meeting in the middle, like they’re supposed to. Tony would be happy just kissing Steve, and has used it to torture him, spending time just kissing even when Steve tries to direct him towards his dick. Kissing Steve lets Tony forget in a way that nothing else does.

Of course it’s Steve who pulls back from the kiss, but being able to stare at his swollen, darkened lips, flushed cheeks, and glittering eyes is a pretty good consolation, Tony thinks. Tony still has his hands down Steve pants, so he pushes them down as far as he can with Steve still kneeling on them, letting the sweats pool around his knees so he can have the full, glorious view of a mostly naked Steve Rogers.

Steve flushes more under the attention, always has, which Tony finds endlessly amusing and endearing.

Tony moves his hands, letting go of Steve’s ass to grope at his pecs and his abs.

“Tony,” Steve says, always so sensitive, pressing up into his touches.

“Right here,” Tony says, pinching Steve’s left nipple until it earns him a gasp. “What do you want?”

“You,” Steve says, and his eyes are so bright and earnest that Tony has to kiss him for it.

“You have me,” Tony says when they break apart again.

“Sweet,” Steve says, kissing Tony on the cheek.

Tony squirms at that, undeserving of the sentiment, undeserving of Steve’s softness.

Tony can feel Steve’s smile against the skin of his cheek. “You can say such lewd things,” Steve is saying, “but a simple thing like that gets you all riled up.”

Tony’s glad that Steve had mistaken his guilt for embarrassment. “What lewd things?” he says, aiming to distract. “Like how your ass is so tight around my dick it makes me lightheaded? Or how much I love your tits? Love that there’s enough give in the muscle to squeeze.” He does so, earning him another little broken moan from Steve. “Or when I talk about how thick your dick is? Feels like you’re splitting me in half when you fill me up.”

“God, Tony,” Steve says, his voice several steps deeper now as he rocks his hips against Tony’s, precome already leaking from his dick.

“Is the question what _you_ want, Steve?” Tony asks, dropping a hand between them to make as loose of a fist as possible around Steve’s cock. He wasn’t lying earlier, Steve really _is_ thick, there’s not much room left for Tony to make his grip loose if he wants to encircle his whole dick. “Wanna come like this?” Tony asks, closing his fist around Steve’s cock. “All over me?”

“Tony,” Steve gasps, rocking into his grip. “Wanna-” a deep breath, “-wanna make you feel good too.”

Tony grins at him. Steve is sweet, and a generous lover. He has no doubt he’ll come out of this satisfied. “You always do,” he says, stroking Steve in time with his thrust.

“Ah, mm, Tony, that’s gonna-”

“-make you come?” Tony says, still grinning up at Steve. “Do it,” he says. “I love it, love being covered in your come. Love knowing that you’re just gonna get it up again, cause I bet you will, won’t you? You’re always so good to me,” Tony says, voice gentling.

Steve nods, his eyes losing focus and his breathing getting deeper. “Course,” he pants.

“Gonna be good to you too,” Tony says. He hates that it’s a lie. But at least it’s not here, in this moment. Right here and now he just wants Steve to feel good.

“You do, always do,” Steve says.

Tony hopes his expression doesn’t betray the swopping feeling of guilt he feels in his stomach. If it does Steve’s too far gone to notice, he keeps making the sexiest grunts, his eyes fluttering as he gets closer to the edge. Tony starts rocking his own erection against Steve’s hip, eased by both their sweat and his own precome, and Steve gasps, thrusting harder.

“Yeah, good, come for me,” Tony says, leaning up to say it directly in Steve’s ear. He bites at Steve’s ear, and then Steve is coming, sticky and warm against Tony’s stomach.

Tony wasn’t lying earlier about loving it. The feel of it goes straight to his dick, which he grinds harder against the thigh Steve has between his legs.

“Tony,” Steve gasps.

“What?” Tony asks. “Can’t go again?”

Steve makes a soft noise and pulls back. His cock is soft now, but Tony really doesn’t doubt that he’ll get it up again. “Lie down,” Steve says, pushing gently at Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrow but obeys, spreading his legs instinctually.

“You’re all dirty,” Steve says, leaning down and licking through the come on Tony’s abdomen.

Tony groans. “Your fault,” he replies.

Steve practically smirks at him. “I better clean you up then, huh?” he says, before dipping his head.

And, _fuck_ , is Steve good with his tongue. He’s good with his whole body, really, but he’s especially good with his tongue, and his mouth, leaving sucking, bruising kisses along Tony’s torso, punctuated by the occasional sharp nip of teeth.

By the time he deems Tony clean enough and moves on to Tony’s cock Tony’s lost all sense of everything, time, space, anything beyond the points where Steve is touching him, his hands on his hips, his mouth and tongue on his cock.

“Fuck, Steve,” is all he can say as he arches helplessly.

Steve takes it, still sucking, letting Tony fuck his mouth.

Tony drops one hand to Steve’s hair, gripping it, needing something to hold on to as he arches and thrusts, chasing the edge.

The next time Tony arches up hard enough for his ass to leave the bed, Steve’s hand is there, dropping from his hip to grope it, squeeze it, before slipping his finger across the Tony’s asshole.

“Nngh,” Tony says, as Steve slips just the tip of his finger in.

A few more thrusts is all it takes, rocking between Steve’s mouth and his finger and then Tony is coming, his orgasm strong and blinding.

Steve pulls off, taking his hips again as Tony flops bonelessly back onto the bed.

“Mm,” is all Tony can say.

Steve smiles at him. “Good?” he asks, and Tony manages to lift an arm enough to pinch him.

“Gonna fuck me like this?” Tony asks. “All relaxed and tired and here for you to use?” He can’t help liking the idea. Of just lying back and giving everything for Steve to take. It would be easy, so easy, so much easier than everything else between them.

But, “Not tonight,” Steve says. He crawls up Tony’s body to kiss him again.

Sure enough, Tony can feel Steve’s erection against his hip, and he manages to raise his leg again, planting his foot on the bed so Steve can grind against his thigh. “Like this?” he asks. “All over me again?”

Steve buries his face in Tony’s neck, but Tony can still see his ears flush red. “Don’t have to,” he says, muffled. “It’ll go away eventually.”

“But why do that?” Tony says. “Here, let me up a bit.”

Steve does, looking adorably confused when he pulls back, but his expression clears when he sees Tony grab the lube.

“Come back down here,” Tony says, pitching his voice low as he coats his fingers in lube.

Steve does, scooting just a bit further into Tony’s lap so Tony has room to run his dirty hand between his ass cheeks. The first finger slides in with barely any resistance and Steve sighs.

“Mmm, nice and easy tonight, aren’t you?” Tony says. “Ready for me?”

Steve hums in response. “Relaxed with you,” he says, eyes half-lidded as he cirlces his hips.

Tony uses his free hand to pull Steve’s head back down to kiss him, has to, before he starts thinking too hard about what that means, how Steve shouldn’t be this relaxed and trusting around him.

Steve kisses back eagerly, wet and tongue-heavy, as Tony jumps straight to using three fingers.

Steve jolts a little but simply moans into the kiss when Tony thrusts them up against his prostate. He knows how to find it, knows just how to work Steve with nothing other than his fingers, knows the rhythm to move them, pushing in, pulling out, crooking them, turning them, spreading them, until Steve’s arms start to shake on either side of Tony’s head and their kiss becomes less of a coordinated kiss and more of Steve just panting against Tony’s mouth. It’s incredibly hot, and Tony vaguely wonders what their sex life could be life if they both serum aided recovery time.

The press of a fourth finger makes Steve cry out and his whole body start to shake. “Shh, I gotcha,” Tony says against his mouth.

Steve blinks his eyes open and looks straight into Tony’s eyes as he comes.

Tony doesn’t know what he sees, but he hopes it not the truth, that Tony does have Steve, exactly where he wants him, where he put him, regardless of what Steve wants.

But Steve just sighs against Tony’s cheek when he slumps, and Tony works his fingers out of him gently.

Steve is always careful not to collapse on top of Tony after sex, always falling onto the bed next to him instead, positioned close, and usually with an arm or leg over Tony’s body, but never his full body weight.

Tony tries to pull Steve back on top of him, wanting to be smothered by his weight, wanting to pinned. He’s still soft and buzzing from the orgasm, and he still wants that feeling of being in Steve’s hands, not needing to worry about or decide anything, because Steve’s got it.

But his limbs are still languid, and Steve is heavy, so he doesn’t move anywhere.

Steve clearly notices though, he tilts his head and looks over at Tony, a soft smile on his face. “I love you,” he says.

Tony’s stomach and heart flip and clench, just like they do every time Steve says it. “That good, huh?” he says instead.

“Tony,” Steve reprimands half-heartedly. “I mean it.”

And he does. Tony knows better than most the dark parts of Steve, but he has always been earnest and committed, even when it blinds him. “I know,” Tony says. “I love you too.” It feels good to not have to lie about this at least. He doesn’t really understand how he can do it, love Steve and hurt him at the same time, but he knows that he does love Steve, perhaps too much. He wants to keep Steve happy, even if the cost is his soul and Steve’s love for him in return.

Steve shifts closer and kisses him on the cheek.

It’s so sweet it’s almost unbearable, but Tony can’t bring himself to push him away.

“Stay there,” Steve says, stretching as he gets out of bed, lifting his arms above his head.

Tony obeys, admiring the shifting of muscles under Steve’s skin as he stretches his legs out underneath the covers, flexing his toes.

Steve winks at him over his shoulder before he heads back into the bathroom. Steve’s done this after almost every single one of their encounters; gotten stuff to clean Tony off with, wipe him down, soothes his aches if they were rough.

He does it now, already clean himself as he gets back on the bed and pulls the cover aside, starting to wipe down Tony’s abdomen.

“You don’t need to do this every time,” Tony tries. He’s said it before, but Steve has always ignored him.

“And you don’t need to object every time,” Steve returns. He gently lifts Tony’s left leg starts wiping away the sweat that’s dried on it before working his way down, wiping away the mess further down. “You know,” Steve starts, “for someone who complains so much you sure are compliant once I start. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you secretly liked being manhandled,” Steve grins at him.

“Good thing you know better,” Tony murmurs. The truth is he _does_ like Steve’s big warm hands on his skin. It’s hard to admit, even in his mind, but he likes that Steve wants to take care of him. When they first started sleeping together, after years of buildup and tension and lust, it had been embarrassing. Now it makes his stomach clench with guilt. Even being cleaned makes him feel dirty.

Luckily, Steve assumes his discomfort is still embarrassment and doesn’t remark on it beyond giving him soft smiles along with the wet cloths.

When he’s done, Steve balls off the washcloth and tosses it back into the bathroom, getting it through the open door and into the hamper in one shot.

“Show off,” Tony points out.

Steve ignores him, but he looks pleased with himself as he climbs back into bed.

“Tired?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow. Steve is usually next to indefatigable, and it’s not even past seven yet.

Steve shrugs. “Just a nap,” he says. “I want to be lazy and hold you for a while.” He raises his arm in invitation, and Tony settles against Steve’s chest, lets him hold him as Steve’s breathing evens out and deepens into sleep. If this is what Steve needs from him, Tony can give him this.

It takes Tony far longer to settle, it always does, his past mistakes surrounding him. But eventually the warmth and security of being in Steve’s hold gets to him, and he too drifts off.

* * *

When Tony wakes up, the sun has set.

As first he’s confused, unsure of what’s woken him and surprised he had fallen asleep in the first place.

But then there’s a solid kick to his sin, and the pain makes Tony bolt upright, heart hammering as calls the lights on low and looks over to Steve. Steve’s brow is furrowed and he’s muttering as he flinches in his sleep. “Tony,” he calls out, sounding pained. “Tony.”

“I’m right here,” Tony says, hand hovering over Steve, not touching, not yet.

Steve frowns in his sleep.

“It’s okay,” Tony says. “Just a dream. You can wake up now.”

Steve seems to relax, so Tony risks setting a hand on his shoulder.

With a soft gasp, Steve’s eyes open.

“Hey,” Tony says. “Bad dreams?”

Steve’s frown grows. “Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Tony just shrugs. Nightmares practically come with the superhero gig, and he knows he’s woken Steve up with a few of his own. He opens his arms and Steve practically falls into him, his weight pushing them both back down on the bed as Steve nestles his head on Tony’s chest.

“That bad?”

Steve’s shrug jostles the arms Tony still has wrapped around him, but he doesn’t drop them. “It was weird,” he says eventually. “I was in a room. It was dark. It looked familiar but I couldn’t make anything out. I know there was a table…and people. Standing around me. They were doing something to me, but I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t do anything.”

Tony’s heart plummets. He wonders if Steve can hear it, with his ear pressed to Tony’s chest the way it is. Tony had known that Steve would probably have some sort of remnant in his memories, but he had hoped…

“You called my name,” he says, trying to keep his voice even.

“Did I?” Steve asks, and Tony hates himself a little bit for feeling so relieved. Even if Steve does remember, even if his mind does know that it’s been interfered with and something is wrong, he doesn’t seem to have any idea that it was Tony’s fault. “Well, I must have needed rescuing, Iron Man,” Steve continues.

“Captain America is more than capable of saving himself,” Tony says, quietly. And he will. Tony knows, has always known, that all the mindwipe did was buy them time. If Steve is having flashes, that means he can break through it, and he will. Steve is stubborn and determined, especially when he thinks he’s right.

“But you’ll save me anyways, right, Shellhead,” Steve says. It’s phrased like a question, but there’s no question in Steve’s voice, just certainty.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Of course.”

It must not sound like the lie that it is, because Steve exhales softly against Tony’s chest, as if in relief.

“Come on,” Tony says after a few seconds. “Let’s get up, have some dinner.”

“A few more minutes?” Steve asks.

“Okay,” Tony agrees. He can’t deny Steve anything more, he’s always denied him a choice, and that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> For vvinterlollipop on tumblr. Thanks again, love!


End file.
